


Blinding Faith

by mommycorvid



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Archangel - Freeform, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Guilty Rick, I promise, If I wasn't already going to hell I am now, M/M, Morty dies but he comes back, Religious Themes, Sweet Morty, consentual, hella gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 22:17:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12177603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mommycorvid/pseuds/mommycorvid
Summary: "I shot an angel, dragged it to my basementStarved it till it died and I did not crySickness of poacher’s pride.."-----Rick knew he had a god-complex, but it took on a whole new meaning as he felt the eternally youthful body beneath him writhe and the wings of downy, white plumage wrap tightly around his back. He had proclaimed that if there ever was such a thing as God then he would be the closest thing to it, and this Archangel screaming his name as beautifully as a church choir sure felt like worship. Was it still considered a sin to worship false idols if he made himself valid through the wine-red face and Psalm-like praises the angel sang out for him?As the ethereal boy and the senescent man tangled, sin bloomed in every drop of sweat and a single black feather drifted to the floor.---"And I know one day hell will catch up with meAnd I’m sure that I will burn eternallyOne day it will come to claim its pound of fleshWhen it’s done, there won’t be anything left"~ Nicole Dollanganger "Poacher's Pride"





	Blinding Faith

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction on here and my first for this fandom as well! This one is going to be a hell (pun intended) of a ride and I am really excited to continue this story. I feel as though Morty's death is brief, but I didn't want it to be too overwhelming either as he is going to be returning in the next chapter. Comment and let me know what you think and the next chapter will be up soon! <3  
> ~ Mama Crow

  
        Misty swirls of the galaxy flashed brightly overhead, long tails of carbon monoxide as well as carbon dioxide, methane, and ammonia trailed out behind the streaking figures. Rick never paid much attention to simple things like comets as he had seen so many things that perplexed him much more than a dirty space snowball.   
However, he noticed things like comets now. He noticed birds as they flapped their wings and chirped on the telephone wires, he noticed when the moon looked the best, he noticed the constellations in night sky, and he noticed the sound of socked feet in the morning as they padded into the dining room.

        The socked feet belonged to the boy that taught him to look at such trivial things as shooting stars and make-believe pictures in the darkness of space. Morty taught him that violence, being harsh, and drinking away your problems were not the only solutions. In fact, they only generated more problems for them, but he had developed habits and there was only so much Morty could improve in his grandfather. Regardless, Morty was proud to know that he had a hand in changing his best friend’s attitude and philosophy, and Rick was (although he would never admit it) beginning to feel a little more like a human with morals, values, and kindness.

        Rick still made stupid choices and risked their lives on nearly a daily basis, but he also avoided situations if Morty advised it. The adolescent’s underrated intelligence lead him to figuring out that if he waited for a situation that he knew would screw both of them over, he could play mediator or even attempt to persuade his stupid genius to avoid the situation entirely.

        Morty also had learned that his grandfather’s merciless teasing was often just a way for the grumpy man to give him his full attention without showing weakness, but that didn’t keep him from getting his feelings hurt when the blue-haired man took things too far. Rick often wished he could express his affection for the kid in a healthy way, but the best he could do was listen to his advice every now and again or buy the social idiot ice cream, maybe something else if it wasn’t a sex robot.

        Before either of them knew it, a year and a half had passed. Morty was fifteen and hadn’t changed much. He had impressive strength from nearly getting killed by space creatures and his older sister, plus his voice cracked less often. Unfortunately, his stutter remained, his voice didn’t grow any deeper, and he resembled his grandfather in the way that they both lacked visually evident muscles. Although, he did pull a page from the Sanchez side of the family by growing slightly taller and becoming less clumsy. The best trait he had developed was his wit and problem solving skills, things he definitely inherited from the Sanchez side.

        As for Rick and Morty’s lives while stuck on Planet Dirt, it was strangely content. At some point, Morty had managed to convince Rick to help him with his school work and he eventually conceded. Morty was an A and B student in his math and science classes, but the kid wasn’t too great in English or civics. It was enough to pass and that was good enough for Beth, who doted over her father for helping her son pass his freshman year of high school.

        Everything was going well, almost too well. Rick knew he should have seen it coming, but he didn’t until he turned around from his adrenaline-driven sprint to see chestnut curls matted to the side of Morty’s bloodied face as he crumpled to the floor. The man’s heart had been pounding so loudly and the gun fire was erupting on all sides as he blasted the last few of their pursuers that he just didn’t hear the calamity taking place directly behind him.

        The beryl maned man flung himself onto his knees, reaching out to cradle Morty’s small frame, but deciding instead to place his head onto his lap. As his hands gently grabbed Morty’s cheeks, his eyes were met with a harrowing sight. The wounds were worse than he anticipated and he knew within a second that boy was already gone.

        The body was still warm and the rest of the enemies were dead, so he had nothing left to fight and no one left to protect. He pulled his grandson’s body into his lap, wrapping his arms around his waist and leaned the mutilated face on his shoulder. His lab coat was drenched in blood, but he couldn’t care less.

        Rick Sanchez never cried. It was something that was more foreign to him than aliens from another solar system gazillions of light years away, so as the tears streaked down his face that had never looked quite so old and weary before this moment, his heart-wrenching sobs took him by surprise. He hated the sound of his rough, gravelly voice as he wept like dying dog, or rather, a wolf.

        A wolf that had no pack to call home, but traversed the icy deserts of loneliness and existential crises. He had stumbled across wolves, loved them even, but they always left or died. Until he found a pup, a pup that showed him things more important and beautiful than the stars had ever been. He showed him his purpose, revealed layer after layer of his true colors. Within the blink of an eye, that pup was gone as well and left a wolf long past his prime to howl until his lungs gave out as he mourned the loss of the only wolf to give him purpose. Morty gave the lonesome Rick his purpose and as he cried and sobbed, he howled for the lost boy that was his savior.

        Once the painful cries receded into desperate wheezing, he leaned the boy’s corpse up a bit. He wanted to see his face, regardless of the damage and the amount of self-hatred he would feel as he stared at the wounds he could’ve prevented if he had just done something, anything different. His knowledge of the universe lead him to believe that he should be more regretful than ever, or entirely unphased. He typically found himself feeling the latter, but not with Morty. Not with _his_ precious Morty.

        Morty’s face was horrendous. The pair of green eyes he had come to love was reduced to only one on the right side of his face, while the other was a hole with blood and various tissues leaking out of the crater. He had been shot twice and it wasn’t with a laser gun, or it would’ve been cleaner. That also meant he had suffered tremendous pain before blacking out, lungs grasping fervently at that very last breath.

        The left side of his head was torn to hell, and it was worse than just his eye. His head was caved in, blood chunky with the flesh that once covered his cranium. His hair was coated in the blood like a paste, some of his cheek flesh had deteriorated and revealed his teeth, and his ear was completely gone.

        Rick absolutely hated himself in this very moment more than he had ever hated himself before. The self-loathing was more than he could bare, sobbing out even worse than before and rubbing his thumbs over what remained of Morty’s cheek. He regretted everything all at once, a list of things he should’ve or could’ve done to save him, to make his life better while he was here, things he needed to say. Questions lined up in his mind of why why he didn’t just tell him everything he felt. Why?

        In the past he had dismissed the very thought of a god ever existing, even when his wife had passed. However, he found himself screaming at the blackened sky that if there was god he should’ve saved Morty, he should bring him to heaven where he belongs, reward him for being such a pure child in a life of agony.

        “Why didn’t y-y-you save him? You expect us all to believe in you, b-but then you - you let kids like Morty die! Take me instead, dammit! Don’t take m-my Morty! I know y-you aren’t giving him back to me, but you better give him a fucking halo, a-a-a damn set of wings, you prick! _Dammit!_ Damn it…” he cried out, but he wondered if anyone was listening, if the words were for him rather than a higher power.

        The mastermind had said before that if there was a god, that it would be none other than Rick himself...

        No wonder nobody could ever trust or believe in Rick Sanchez.


End file.
